


The More Remote the Body, the Less the Gravity

by used_songs



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/used_songs/pseuds/used_songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta: I am heavily indebted to antelope_writes for the help with this one!<br/>Prompt: "I wouldn't change that for the world..." (quote by Captain Jack) prompt by mystic_ivanow<br/>Kink: Slow sex</p>
    </blockquote>





	The More Remote the Body, the Less the Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: I am heavily indebted to antelope_writes for the help with this one!  
> Prompt: "I wouldn't change that for the world..." (quote by Captain Jack) prompt by mystic_ivanow  
> Kink: Slow sex

When I come down from brooding on the rooftops of my city, he is waiting silently in my office. He stands up calmly as I breeze in, and takes my coat when I give it to him. He hangs it up, and then turns back to me without speaking. He has taken off his coat and tie since last I saw him, and his sleeves are rolled up, his collar loosened.

"Sure was windy up there!" Ianto's face is unreadable, as always. I step closer to him, to see if that will provoke a reaction, draw him to me, and run my hand over my unruly hair, ruffling it up a little more in hopes that he will touch me there. "I almost fell a couple of times." I grin at him. "That would've been a shame. This is a new shirt."

"Were you ready to fall?" he asks me gravely, looking so far into me that I think he can see everything – past, present and future. His face is half in shadows.

Not a conversation I feel like having, I think, so I laugh it off, flash him another grin, my game face. But he is serious, with that unexpected and timeless gravity that he sometimes has.

"Because falling goes by so fast, and tonight I think I'd rather go slow," he continues, his voice deep and thoughtful. "Let's pretend that I have forever, too."

At that, I swallow and I feel my face freeze, and I go cold inside. But then he smiles slowly and so sweetly, looking at me with such a quiet and naked intensity that my mouth goes dry with the heat. And now he steps toward me so gradually, almost stalking me, that I feel something fall down within me, something that feels a lot like spinning on the edge, dangerous and exhilarating.

He comes even closer and raising his hands to unbutton my waistcoat with deliberation, his hands barely brushing the cloth.

I smile at him, more honestly now, the smile that I save for times like this. There's this pull, this positive and negative force that draws me closer, and I reply, "And I wouldn't change that for the world, Ianto Jones, or for anyone else in it." And then he kisses me. Pulls me forward against him gently, his hands undoing the small buttons of my shirt. I look down at those hands and then really watch, mesmerized by their slow ballet. I feel him kiss the top of my head, huff his breath gently in my hair, smelling me, touching me as if I am somehow something special and even fragile, which is ridiculous. He sways slightly, as though we were dancing, easing his warm hands against my skin as he pulls up my vest and untucks all of my layers.

I put my hands on his shoulders, let him lead, feel the flexing of the muscles there, the lines of force that drag me to him, then slide my palms to touch his neck, the straight shot of his jaw, the edge of bone under the skin behind his ears, and I press forward against him, falling into his heat.

"Like this, Ianto?" I smile, pulling back a little to look him in the eye.

He looks back at me, slightly unfocused and then smiles. "Like that," he agrees, and reaches up to cup the base of my skull, pulling me forward again.

I run my fingers down the sides of his throat again and then under his shirt, loosening his clothes still more, wrinkling him, pulling off his armor and revealing him. And he slides my shirt and waistcoat off in one movement, pulls my vest up over my head a bit impatiently, with a little snap, and I laugh.

"Don't tell me you're in a hurry after all," I tease.

He looks at me again, looks into me really, and he says in a low tone, "I want to savor you." I cannot breathe suddenly, because this is what it feels like to be loved. And unlike so many other things, this feeling isn't temporary, it can't be. I want to fall into this without thinking about what comes next, a slow dive, following the true and simple line of the lodestone needle.


End file.
